


Sacrifice for Tomorrow

by BobTheTrex



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Durmand Priory (Guild Wars), Gen, Sylvari (Guild Wars), Undead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28849125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BobTheTrex/pseuds/BobTheTrex
Summary: The final thoughts of Magister Sieran before her death.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 8





	Sacrifice for Tomorrow

"I can't let you hurt them. I won't!"

Magister Sieran yelled before slamming the massive doors closed with a gust of icy wind, leaving her best friend on the other side, safe. She heard them pound on the door, demanding that she open it, crying for her not to do this, that they could both live. It broke her heart, but she did not have time to comfort them, for the hoard of Undead only grew closer, the legions of Zhaitan refused to give her a second longer with her greatest friend. 

"I can only protect today but you can save the world." Sieran stated softly to the wall, hoping that her friend would hear it; she doubted her voice could be heard over the battle, though; but if she was to die, she at least wanted to have said something cool before she did so.

Pulling out her twin daggers, she flung a disk of ice at the nearest Undead, slicing off its arm; the legion charged, and her daggers burst to life. She flung ice shards at the Undead, slicing them to ripens them till they were little more than strings of corpses. She blasted them back with frosty mist, just barely preventing herself from being completely overwhelmed; she needed to give them enough time to escape and warn Lion's Arch that Claw Island had fallen. Stabbing her dagger into the ground, ice shot across the land and froze several Undead. Pulling back up, the ice shattered, as did the Undead inside the ice. She then once again flung ice disks at the near-endless legion of Undead.

They were pushing her back from the door, cornering her. No matter how many she killed, there were always more; their ghastly faces rotted and dead as they closed in on her. Her only comfort was that she could not be turned into one after she was killed. But it was a small comfort that did little to save her from the fact that these nightmarish faces would be the last thing she would see.

She blasted them back with a gust of wind, but the hoard was so large and thick with bodies that the wind did nothing to stop their approach. She hacked at them with her blades, the elements doing little to help her in such close quarters with the enemy. But she needed to hold out longer, give her friend more time to escape.

Sieran gasped as the rusty blade of an undead pirate pierced her gut. It pulled back its blade covered in her white sap; she vengefully blasted the Undead with a ball of spiked ice, smashing its skull in, killing it. More and more wounds accumulated over her body as the Undead got more and more lucky shots on her, more than any healing spell would be able to fix. Just a little longer, she needed to push herself a little bit more, just to be sure that Lion's Arch was warned. Something exploded right next to her sending her crashing against the gate; poison filled her lungs, making her eyes tear up, and her stomach sicken.

Something thwacked her across the back of her head, making her fall down; the Undead swarmed her. As her vision darkened and the constant pounding of her body from the thousands of Undead grew numb, she smiled, though it was a sad smile.

She had always wanted to explore the Mists; she just didn't think she would have died so soon. She would miss sitting in the library of the Durmand Priory with her friend, laughing and talking about all the fantastic things in the world, plotting adventures and quests far into the night. How many of those would she never be able to do now?

She would miss the freezing weather of the Shiverpeaks, how it would sting her skin and wilt her hair. She doubted that even the most beautiful part of the Mists could compare to the snowy mountains that stretched as far as the eye could see. She hoped that her friend would never grow tired of looking at them.

She would miss the Grove; she wished she had spent more time there, with Mother and everyone else. To her, it was the most beautiful place in all of Tyria. She hoped her friends would get to see them many more times in their life, to remember her with fond memories as they did so.

She would miss her friend the most, the only person that ever understood her.

"Hopefully, they will be okay…" She could almost see her friend's face as her vision turned black. She would meet them in the Mists someday; she could give them a grand tour when they arrived! It would be a wonderful adventure.


End file.
